


Chuck vs. Acute Otitis Media

by nutmeg223



Series: Charles NOT in Charge [5]
Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Discipline, M/M, Medical Kink, Sickfic, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-10-01 21:18:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20407891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg223/pseuds/nutmeg223





	1. Chapter 1

  


"Walker, I told you to keep a damn eye on him, not let him stay up all hours playing goddamned Call of Duty with the gnome! I leave for four days, and this is what happens?"

"Casey, he is an adult! If he wants to spend a weekend off playing video games, it's not my business. I monitored the surveillance, as ordered." Sarah managed a creditable growl back at Casey.

Chuck looked up at the two of them from the sofa, blinking blearily and trying not to sniffle. Or sneeze. The sneezing was the worst, since his face already hurt, and sniffling didn't do him any good, anyway, since his sinuses were stuffed with cement. He rubbed at his ear and considered just flopping over on Casey's sofa for a nap. It was a good sofa. Comfy. Comfier with Casey on it, too, but he was pissed. The realization almost made his lower lip twist in a way he really didn't want Sarah seeing.

He'd wanted to welcome Casey home after his re-certification...properly. It'd been six months since this whole thing started, and he'd bought condoms and lube! Casey had been adamant about taking it slowly, making sure Chuck was ready for any next steps long before they happened. He'd wanted to be Casey's welcome home present, and now he was a plague-carrying infestation. That nap was looking better and better, if only so he could suffocate himself in the sofa cushions.

"It's your business when it affects mission readiness!" Casey stepped into Sarah's personal space to more effectively tower over her.

"He just needs some sleep." Sarah defended. "He's fine."

"Fine does NOT sound like that." Casey pointed at Chuck, who was wheezing slightly while he breathed. "What the hell mutant death virus did you expose him to?"

"Casey, he works in retail. It's cold and flu season. Blame the shoppers."

Chuck wondered if Sarah could take Casey. He had years of experience and a lot of muscle on her, but she had The Crazy. Casey'd dialed it down to a glare, though, and had stepped back a little, so Chuck figured he wouldn't get to see it any time soon.

"Casey?" he rasped, trying to get the bigger man's attention. "M'glad you're back."

That got everyone's attention.

"Chuck, maybe right now isn't the best time." Sarah gave him a warning look.

Casey just turned a fearsome glare on him, and Chuck felt his butt clench. Oh yeah, he was in trouble. A lot of trouble. Although, that kind of helped with the guilt, because then it would be dealt with and over. He shifted uncomfortably under Casey's Look, suddenly conscious that he'd done every single thing he'd promised Casey he wouldn't while the older man was re-certifying on some of the larger weaponry in his arsenal. He'd engaged in a 48 hour Call of Duty tournament with Morgan, hadn't eaten anything with actual nutritional value, hadn't slept properly. In short, he'd been what Casey would classify as "rebellious" and "naughty". God, but he hated both those words. Although, he probably wouldn't have to deal with consequences until he felt better. Casey was pretty fair that way.

"I go out of town again, kid, and I'm leaving you with May, since I can't trust you to behave yourself."

Chuck liked May, at the library. He'd only ever had to spend a couple of hours locked down with his NSA-approved "babysitter", and he really did like her, but she was a little terrifying.

"Caseeey!" he whined and snuffled a little. "M'sorry. Really. It's just...Morgan called and I've been neglecting him and…"

"Cork it, kid."

"Casey, really. He's sick." Sarah scolded.

"And he wouldn't be if you'd both done what I told you to do." Casey's glare encompassed both Chuck and Sarah, and Chuck was more than happy to share the ire.

"Fine! Fine, this is my fault. I broke the asset." Sarah snipped. "We have a briefing in about two minutes."

"Christ, Walker. Why didn't you say - "

"Is there a problem, Major?" General Beckman's voice cut across the tension.

"No, ma'am. Slight difference of opinion." Casey immediately came to attention. "Good afternoon, ma'am."

Sarah straightened up on his other side, effectively blocking Chuck from Beckman's view. Not that he minded. He really didn't need to be in hot water with her, too. She tended to yell, and his head hurt too much. And his one ear felt like he was underwater. And sideways.

"Agent Walker. I trust after Friday that you and the asset got some rest? He's recovered from the window?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sarah couldn't suppress a tiny wince; she hadn't mentioned that to Casey, yet. "We both had the weekend off."

"Good. Where is the asset, Agent Walker? I asked you to have him here for a reason."

"Uh, ma'am, Chuck isn't feeling so well right now. Umm…" Sarah shifted nervously.

Casey sighed and stepped aside. No reason to let the General chew his ass off.

"What did you do to the asset, Agent Walker?"

"Ma'am, he was like this this morning. I um, he probably picked up a cold from one of the shoppers at the Buy More."

"Very well," although her tone suggested otherwise. "Can he flash in this condition?"

Which Chuck thought was a really rude thing to say. He'd showered and shaved! It wasn't like he smelled funny, although he was pretty sure his hair was doing something weird. Casey swore he had insurgent hair, just looking for a chance to take over the world. Sometimes, Chuck thought that maybe Casey needed to spend more time with people...except that Casey had tickled him a little while teasing him about his hair.

"Should be fine, ma'am." Chuck answered thickly. His head already hurt; he didn't think it could get worse.

"Could we have one minute, ma'am?" Casey asked.

When Beckman rolled her eyes and nodded, Casey went and got a garbage can, a bottle of water, and several wet paper towels. Once done, he took up position near Chuck and waited.

"If everyone is ready?" The freezing tones made Chuck wince a little. "I need you to look at this picture, Mr. Bartowski, and tell us what you see."

A picture of a totally normal looking man came up. The flash started almost immediately, cascading information into his brain. Through the images, the pain intensified, his ear throbbing horribly.

"He's smuggling arms through fake Catholic orphanages in Africa. And drugs. And whatever else he can, because no one will strip search a nun."

Chuck gasped out the information, squeezing his eyes shut against the searing pain in his skull. Nausea rose behind the pain, and he struggled to get up. He was going to humiliate himself in front of the General if he didn't. His uncoordinated flailing stopped when he felt Casey drop onto the sofa next to him, felt a big hand on the back of his neck. Then there was a garbage can between his knees and Casey pushing his head forward and...he hated being sick. He didn't know how long he sat there, Casey bracing him and keeping his head down, as he heaved into the can. Finally, he finished.

He didn't look at the screen as Casey helped him sit up again, just took the proffered bottle of water to rinse and spit a few times. Then Casey was gripping his chin, turning his head, and gently wiping his face clean. He leaned into the tender touch, feeling seriously awful. Casey dropped the paper towel into the can, and handed the whole thing to Sarah.

"Consider it penance."

He vaguely heard Sarah's huff and retreat, but she took the garbage can with her, so he wasn't complaining. Chuck hid his face against Casey's shoulder, grateful to have something to block out the light. And the humiliation.

"Mr. Bartowski, you're on sick leave effective immediately. Major, I'll be in touch." Beckman clicked off, leaving them in quiet.

"What hurts?" Casey asked his boy quietly, holding him as close as he could.

"Everything." Chuck whimpered. He didn't add "including my heart", because he was pretty sure Casey would just give him the "moron" look.

"Head?" Casey figured they could go through one-by-one if they had to.

Chuck nodded.

"Headache...and my ear hurts. M'cold. Back hurts. Keep coughing up crap."

"Okay. What color crap are you coughing up?" Casey rubbed Chuck's back, hoping to soothe his boy a little.

"Kinda yellow?" Chuck murmured.

His boy knew better than to object because the questions were a little gross.

"Tell me if that changes. How much does your ear hurt?"

"A lot, if I pop it? And I feel sideways."

And how the ever-loving _fuck_ did you translate 'I feel sideways'? Feeling completely out of his depth, Casey fished his phone out of his pocket. He hit speed dial 4 and waited while it rang. They didn't frigging train you to deal with this crap in Basic, or beyond. He tucked Chuck close and let his boy cling to him.

"Burbank Central Library Special Collections, Miss Blakeney speaking. How may I help you today?"

The chipper greeting set Casey's teeth on edge.

"May, do you people have that Physician's Desk Reference?" He had a vague remembrance of his mother using the big red book.

He heard her sigh, could practically picture her tucking the phone between shoulder and ear and looking up at the ceiling for patience.

"Major, there's an app for that these days. Surely your…"

"Cork it. He'd sick, and I'm not sure how sick."

"Symptoms." May almost barked.

"Look, just go get the book like a good librarian and…"

"Major, I was a champion babysitter on base, and then I was an au pair. I have years of experience figuring out what anything from 'my tummy hurts' to 'oops' means. Just list the flipping symptoms." Apparently someone was having a bad day.

"He looks like he has a cold. He said everything hurts, but especially his head and his ear, he's coughing up yellow crap, and he said that he feels sideways. And I think he has a fever." Casey growled.

"Right. You are going to hang up and get him settled. I'll call his sister and get her to come and check him out. He probably has an ear infection on top of a really nasty cold. Once you get Chuck settled, text me with a list of what you're going to need and I'll stop by the store after work. Do you have a humidifier?"

"May, what…"

"Just answer the question."

He could almost hear her gritting her teeth.

"No, May, I don't have a humidifier." Because when the NSA put together your apartment, they didn't include things like frigging humidifiers.

"Thank you, Major Casey. I'll see you after six."

He stared at his phone for a minute after she hung up on him. He hated calling her in for anything other than occasional support or library-based babysitting, but she had the organizational abilities of an entire team of agents. Roughly three minutes later, his phone beeped at him.

"Ellie ETA 45 minutes. Have patient in pajamas."

Casey winced a little. He'd hoped for a little longer before he had to face a second Bartowski. He rubbed his hand down Chuck's back.

"Hey, kid, can you make it upstairs for me?"

Chuck groaned pitifully and shook his head.

"Sofa's comfy. You're comfy."

"We need to get you into pajamas, kid. Your sister is going to come and take a look at you, see what's up."

That got a reaction. Chuck sat up and glared at him.

"Ellie does needles!"

"Hmm?" Casey steadied his boy; he was canting sideways a little.

"If I need antibiotics, Ellie does the needle thing first! I don't want her to see me!"

"Hey. Hey, look at me. Kid, you look at me right now." The stern tone worked. Chuck's eyes locked on his. "If you need a shot, we'll deal with it. You shouldn't, though, so don't worry."

"But Ellie…"

"Won't get past me, kid. Come on, up. We need to get you more comfortable."

Casey hauled Chuck up and steadied him. Operation Bartowski Pajamas commenced.


	2. Chapter 2

  


Operation Bartowski Pajamas was going to be a complete frigging bust if Bartowski didn't stop trying to help. His boy's uncoordinated attempts at dressing himself were going precisely nowhere, and they only had about twenty minutes left before Ellie arrived. Chuck had only managed to wash his face and get his socks and long-sleeved tee off. At the end of his patience, Casey sat on the bed and pulled his boy between his knees. He went to work on his boy's jeans, taking them and his boxers straight down to his ankles once he got the button and zip dealt with.

"Step out." He ordered.

Chuck wobbled on his feet as he tried to lift one out of the pants. Casey pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Hands on my shoulders, then step out." He clamped his hands on Chuck's hips to steady him as his boy managed to get his feet out of his pants.

Generally, Chuck in only a T-shirt lead to much more interesting things, but he wasn't in any state for anything more interesting than pajamas and being tucked up on the sofa.

"Casey, m'cold!" Chuck complained, batting at his hands as he tried to get his undershirt off.

"Knock it off, kid." Casey growled, trying to wrestle it off him. "You'll be dressed again in a minute."

"M'cold now! And you're not helping!"

Apparently, being sick made his usually pliant and well-behaved boy a complete brat. Casey hauled him sideways and popped him across the butt twice, and hard. Chuck squeaked and stilled, looking at Casey with wide, sad eyes.

"You," Casey began, stripping the undershirt off his boy. "Are going to behave yourself, unless you want your sister to find out what happens to bad boys. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," the tone was absolutely pathetic, and combined with the eyes and the smacked-pink bottom it was damn near devastating.

"Good boy." Casey kicked Chuck's jeans to the side and held out pajama pants. "Hold onto my shoulders and step in."

Chuck's little rebellion had been quelled, at least for the moment. He stepped in, letting Casey pull up the soft, brushed cotton sleep pants and tie the drawstring for him.

"See, there's my good boy." Casey stood to help Chuck into the matching pajama shirt and buttoned it before he pulled Chuck into a hug. With ungelled hair and his face still a little pink from both the scrubbing and the fever, he looked a hell of a lot younger than 26.

Casey rubbed his back and let him cling for a few minutes. Eventually, he peeled Chuck off and made him sit so he could get some socks on his boy.

"You just keep behaving for me, and we'll be fine. Can you do that?"

Chuck nodded, chewing on his lip. Casey braced himself for a confession.

"I didn't do what you wanted...what I promised I would while you were gone." With his raspy voice and completely clogged sinuses, he was nearly unintelligible.

"Kid, if you had, I'd be shocked. And before you start, it wasn't a test. Yeah, you're going to be a very sorry boy when you're feeling better, but we're going to put it aside until then. Is that understood?" Casey pulled Chuck up again and started herding him downstairs. They'd just make Ellie's arrival.

"I understand."

"Good." He didn't feel like he needed to say anything else to cover it, so he concentrated on getting Chuck downstairs in one piece. He just got his boy settled on the sofa, snuggled into one of the afghans his mother sent, when the doorbell rang.

One hand on his weapon, he checked the camera while Ellie was scanned. Once she was cleared, he opened the door and ushered her in.

"Thanks for coming," he managed a smile. Usually, he liked Ellie, but she was going to go into…

"Oh, god, Chuck! Honey, you look like you feel horrible!"

Super-scary big sister-doctor mode was what Chuck called it. She was overprotective of her little brother, which was probably the only reason the kid hadn't succumbed to malnutrition or a vitamin D deficiency yet. Casey stood back as Ellie swooped in, sitting on the sofa near Chuck and setting her bag on the floor. Chuck relaxed a little under the familiar cosseting, although he gave her bag a dark look or two.

"The message I got said you probably had an ear infection?" She brushed his curls off his forehead, soothing as she checked for a fever.

Chuck nodded.

"Any nausea, dizziness?"

"He was sick earlier, and he was weaving like a drunk trying to get him into his pajamas."

"You know, they told Dad to just get the damn tubes put in." Ellie muttered as she pulled her otoscope out and fit it with the correct tip. "You know the drill."

Chuck apparently did know the drill. He tipped his head slightly, let her look in first one ear and then the other before she felt his glands and took a look at his throat.

"Did you get a temp yet?" Ellie spared a glance at Casey.

"Not yet, but he's running pretty warm."

Ellie's look suggested that maybe she was going to remove Chuck from his care. Like hell.

"Well, you've got a double ear infection and one of the nastier colds that's going around to deal with. Let's see what your temp is."

If she kept going from addressing Casey to addressing Chuck, it was going to get damn confusing damn fast. Chuck opened his mouth obediently for the thermometer, happy to be out of the line of fire. Ellie turned back to Casey.

"I'll call in a prescription for an antibiotic; make sure he takes it. No skipping, Chuck, not even one dose. Mostly, you need to do make sure he rests and gets plenty of fluids. Try not to use too many decongestants; they'll just dry him out and make everything worse."

The thermometer beeped as Ellie finished, and she squinted a little at the reading.

"102. Keep checking his temperature and call again if it goes over 104. It shouldn't, though, since we're getting him on an antibiotic. Chuck, honey, I want to give you a…"

"No!" Chuck scooted back from his sister, holding up the afghan like it would protect him.

"You know that it'll help you feel better sooner, Chuck." Ellie brushed a hand through his hair again, trying to soothe away the fear. "I know you don't like needles, but I think…"

"Does the oral antibiotic usually work fast enough?" Casey cut in smoothly, not liking where this was going.

"Well, yes, but to make sure that he feels better sooner…"

"Then we'll go with that. He's already upset and he feels awful, adding needles to the situation isn't going to help." He used his 'don't argue' voice and hoped it would work on Ellie. It never did on Chuck.

Ellie shut her bag with a snap, clearly unhappy.

"Ellie, you know I don't want another doctor, right?" Chuck managed a smile for his sister, giving her the eyes that almost always made Casey give in.

"I don't want you hurting, Chuck." Ellie returned the hug that Chuck wrapped her in.

"I know. You're the best sister ever. But no needles." Chuck whispered into her hair.

"Fine, but if you feel awful for longer, I'll be back. And if you skip any doses, Charles, I will write that prescription I've been threatening and I'll make sure John knows what to do."

Casey watched his boy blanch a little. He had a pretty good idea of what Ellie'd threatened.

"I'll keep track of the antibiotics, Ellie. Thank you again for coming home to take care of Chuck." Casey skillfully herded Ellie out the door without making it seem like he was getting rid of her.

Once alone, he crossed back to his boy and sat on the edge of the sofa.

"See, no needles."

"Thank you," Chuck smiled.

"You were very, very good for your sister, kid. I'm proud of you." Casey pulled him into a gentle hug. "You obviously feel like crap, but you behaved yourself. That's good work."

Obviously, Chuck looking so vulnerable had gone to his head. He wasn't usually so free with the praise. Chuck rubbed his cheek against Casey's shoulder and yawned, rubbing his ear.

"You feel up to eating something?"

Chuck shook his head; Casey could feel the moue of distaste.

"Juice?"

Chuck nodded.

"Okay, I'm going to get you some juice and some water. Then, we're going to watch a movie, take it easy." Casey hoped that if he got Chuck down, the exhaustion would do the rest. "You're on a seriously restricted schedule until I say otherwise, kid."

Chuck huffed a little in response, but let Casey head to the kitchen. Casey, knowing his boy, put both juice and water in travel mugs. He'd have text May once Chuck fell asleep, let her know what they needed. He figured soup ingredients were his best bet, easy stuff that wouldn't be hard on his boy's stomach.

Casey crossed back into the living room and got settled on the sofa behind Chuck. He pulled his boy back to rest against his chest before he gave up the juice. Chuck rested against him with a sigh, turning his head to kiss Casey's neck.

"Had a way better welcome home planned."

"Yeah, kid, we can save it for when you can stand up on your own." Casey pressed a kiss into messy curls. "Just rest for me, hmm?"

With another sigh, Chuck sipped at his juice and watched the opening for Star Wars scroll across the screen. After four days away, Casey relished the feel of his boy in his arms. He wasn't looking forward to Chuck feeling better, but they were putting that off. Right now, he just needed to concentrate on getting his boy better.  



	3. nutmeg223 | Chuck vs. Acute Otitis Media Part 3 (Chuck/Casey)

  


The gentle, insistent buzzing of phone against thigh brought Casey quickly awake. He worked it out of his pocket to read the text.

"At front door. Didn't want to wake anyone."

It took a minute to extricate himself from his limpet, but he managed it in the end. He took the time to ease a couple of pillows behind Chuck, getting him at the angle that would help ease his wheezing breaths. His boy slumbered on, having reached the state of exhaustion where not even a full-scale assault on the apartment would wake him. Casey had had more than one briefing with Beckman with the kid sleeping like a hibernating bear on the sofa. He went to the door and checked the video feed. The scan came up clean, so he opened the door to May.

She didn't say anything, just waggled her fingers at him and handed him a couple of bags. She picked up others and brushed past him into the apartment.

"You can talk. He's out, hard."

"Oh, I didn't want to wake him up." May shifted a bag higher on her shoulder and headed for the kitchen. "I handed you the bags with the humidifiers. There's one for down here and one for the bedroom. Oh, and his meds are in there too."

Casey just gave her a Look.

"It'll help with his breathing." May explained, unpacking things onto the counter. "I wasn't sure what all you had in, so I picked up everything on your list and added some of my own soup to do until you get time to cook."

"Thank you." Casey took a harder look at her. "You sure you're not coming down with something?"

"Long hours." May managed a tight smile. "I've been working open to close for the past eight days; we're short-staffed right now with all the stuff going around."

"Hmm."

Casey watched as she kept unpacking groceries. He was pretty sure he hadn't sent her that long a list. "You buy the whole store?"

"No, Major. I'm sure I left something on the shelves. Umm…"

"Crap, Blakeney, what?" he knew that umm. It never meant anything good.

"Jay found me. Well, I was on desk since we're short and he came in." She ducked into the fridge to start putting veggies away. "I picked up extra of the juice Chuck likes. You're going to go through a lot of it if you're keeping him hydrated."

"What happened?"

"I had a lot of explaining to do, since my brother went full-tilt-boogie at me in front of everyone, but I think I managed it. I don't think he blew my cover, and he didn't blow his, either. Hand me the celery?"

Casey handed her the celery.

"I'll take care of it," he decided. "And before you start on you can fight your own battles, I'm the lead here, it's my job to make sure all my agents play nice. Christ."

"I put together some things you might want for Chuck, too." The subject was firmly changed. "And I wasn't going to argue."

"Hmm?"

"Peppermint-eucalyptus bath salts and shower tabs. There's some lavender in there, too, if you need him relaxed. With the shower tabs, just set it in the bottom of the shower and let it fizz." May folded the bags she'd brought neatly and prepared to leave.

"Thanks, May."

"It's what I'm here for, Major. Call if you need anything else, I mean it."

When she said things like that, she reminded him of his mother. It was probably the Look.

"I will. And get some sleep, Blakeney, you look like something the cat dragged in."

"Will do, Major. I'm going home and crashing."

With that, she took her leave. It was one of the reason he'd fought to get her out here as support. She did what she was asked, she didn't bitch, and she followed orders...unlike Walker. Hell, he was going to have to have a talk with her about that and explain a few things. He went to poke through the fridge and started pulling some stuff out. He'd start with a stock...roast the vegetables first, probably. He preferred a vegetable stock for most soup bases, and he could poach chicken while the vegetables roasted.

Once he got some food into his boy, he'd get him into a bath for a little bit, and then bed. He was serious about the restricted schedule; Chuck was going to spend a lot of time in bed, sleeping. He started the oven preheating and began to prep vegetables to roast. He knew Chuck loved his chicken noodle soup, so he'd start with that. Vegetables in the oven, he opened the fridge again and checked out the containers of soup May left. Vegetable barley, Moroccan lentil, and no-chicken noodle faced him. Chuck would at least eat anything that involved noodles, and could probably be convinced to eat the vegetable barley. He pulled out the lentil for a minute and turned the container around. Sure enough, it was also labeled 'Major, this one is for you. Take care of yourself!' in May's neat handwriting.

He smiled briefly at that and transferred some from container to bowl to heat. He'd need to be extra-strict about eating and sleeping until his boy got better...and the restrictions might not be over then, either. Even though he'd known Chuck would push with him gone, he hadn't thought it would be quite so bad...and that the kid would know better than to keep going when he started feeling awful. He needed a plan for dealing with the latest bout of misbehavior, and for dealing with Walker.

He couldn't have her undermining what he was actually achieving with the kid, the continuing habit of getting out of the damn car notwithstanding. The boy spent more time staring at corners or with a sore ass for that infraction than any other issues combined. Chuck was actually making progress, maturing a little. He knew Walker didn't understand anyone needing an outside arbiter of their behavior, but Chuck did. He needed to know that there were rules, and that those rules would be enforced.

He pulled the bowl of soup from the microwave and stirred, spooning some up. The fragrant lentils tasted fantastic, and he was starving. Nothing like coming home to a sick boy and a pissy Walker to work up an appetite. Chuck wasn't going to like him doubling down on the rules and enforcement, but his boy could live with it. He was seriously grounded from anything that wasn't the Buy More or for the government for the foreseeable future. Casey knew he'd have to find a way to keep Chuck in line without resorting to bending him over a hip, at least while his ears were infected. Going up and down stairs without falling over was hard enough on him right now, he didn't need to be upended every time he decided to try being a brat.

And Casey had no doubt that he'd be seeing more of the brat who'd crabbed at him about being cold. His boy might have gone back to sweet and pliant after a couple of swats, but he was under no illusion that the change would hold. Chuck got crabby when he got sick; he'd seen it once when Sarah was handling the kid, and there was no way he was putting up with that amount of attitude. He'd just have to get used to snagging the kid by the shoulder and swatting while he was sick.

That decided and lunch eaten, Casey turned his attention to the chicken. He'd poach it, whole, and then mix some of the poaching water with the vegetable stock. He kept an eye on the clock as he worked, not wanting Chuck to sleep too long. He'd probably have a fight on his hands over eating, but Chuck's little insurgency was over. Four days of rebellion (and what sounded like his boy going out a window, again...he'd have to take a look at the mission report) were enough. Sick or not, he was bringing his boy back into line.


	4. nutmeg223 | Chuck vs. Acute Otitis Media Part 4 (Chuck/Casey)

  


Once the soup was simmering, Casey perched on the edge of the sofa and rubbed a hand up and down Chuck's back. As usual, Chuck had turned over to sprawl stomach-down in his sleep.

"Come on, kid, you need to wake up for me." Casey answered the sleepy groan he got from his boy.

That got him another, even grumpier groan and Chuck glaring balefully at him over one shoulder.

"Tired!" he whined.

"Mmhmm. We need to get your temp, and then you need to eat and take your medication. Once you do that and take a bath, you can sleep."

"I don't want to be up, and m'not hungry."

As if that made a difference.

"And I just told you what was going to happen, kid. I need you to sit up so we can see what that temp is, right now." Casey was NOT coaxing, not when Chuck used that tone on him.

Chuck just huffed and flopped back into the cozy nest he'd created in his sleep. Casey raised an eyebrow at the grumpy, stubborn defiance presented by Chuck's back and considered his options. He stood, ignoring the little sarcastic cheer Chuck gave, and started for the stairs.

"Chuck, you have about two minutes to make a decision. If you're not sitting up by the time I get back down here, I can guarantee that you're not going to like how we take your temp for the rest of the time you're sick, because we'll be doing it the old-fashioned way."

He felt that he was showing unusual restraint in ignoring Chuck waving a hand at him as if to say 'Whatever.' He hated 'whatever'; it was close to the height of insolence. He rooted around in the medicine cabinet for a minute, finding both thermometers quickly, and prepped one before heading back down. He'd timed it perfectly at just about two minutes. Chuck, of course, was still flopped face down on the sofa, projecting defiance at the world in general. Sometimes, his boy didn't know when to quit.

He moved quickly, not wanting to give Chuck time to figure out exactly what he'd meant. Chuck had shoved the afghan mostly off, giving him a clear target. He perched a hip on the edge of the sofa again, facing Cuck's feet, and had his boy's pajama pants down to his knees before he could even form a protest.

"Casey! John, what?" he squirmed wildly, but couldn't get anywhere with one of Casey's elbows planted in his lower back.

"I gave you two chances to behave for me, kid. Until your fever breaks, we'll be taking your temperature this way." With that, Casey parted Chuck's soft cheeks and slid the thermometer home. "Five minutes."

His boy stiffened and squeaked at the intrusion, kicking at the sofa cushions testily. Casey kept an elbow in his back, and held the thermometer with his other hand, cupping Chuck's bottom in the process. He patted gently, hoping to soothe some of the temper.

"Casey! This isn't funny!" Chuck tried a wiggle, but he could hardly move.

"No, it isn't." Casey agreed. "I don't find too-big-for-their-britches boys funny."

"I don't want you to!" Chuck tried to appeal to Casey's guilt, sniffling a little and sounding very sad.

"Then you should have listened when I warned you, kid. And stop trying to manipulate me." The firm pat he used to punctuate that sentence ended Chuck's attempt.

"Stop! Stop now!" More kicking accompanied the demand, and Chuck thumped a fist against his pillow.

"Three minutes, kid. You might as well get used to how this feels, since you lost oral thermometer privileges two minutes ago. You're already grounded and looking at a sore ass once you feel better, you want to spend your sick time laying on your stomach, too?" He knew what sincerely distressed Chuck sounded like, and he was getting angry brat Chuck.

No, Chuck did NOT want that. He wanted a normal S.O. who wouldn't DO THINGS like this. Or threaten him when he was sick. Or leave him alone on the sofa when he really wanted to wake up bracketed by said S.O.'s strong arms. Too tired and sick to do much more arguing, Chuck's temper quickly turned to misery. He sniffled in earnest and hid his face in his pillow, an embarrassed flush coloring his cheeks.

"M'sorry!"

The muffled, miserable sounding apology was a surprise, but a welcome one.

"Thank you." Casey checked his watch and removed the thermometer. Chuck's temp hadn't gone up, thankfully, but it hadn't gone down, either. "We'll get you some Advil with your antibiotic, see if we can't get you a little more comfortable."

He tidied up quickly, wiping the thermometer with an alcohol wipe and putting it into its container before he tidied his boy up a little, too. Chuck squirmed at having his cheeks parted and stray lube wiped away, but he relaxed quickly enough when Casey pulled his pajama pants up again. Once he'd washed his hands and sat down again, he wasn't surprised to wind up with a lapful of penitent boy. He held Chuck close and rubbed his hand up and down the kid's spine.

"Are you really going to…"

"Until the fever breaks." Casey promised. "We've talked about this a lot, Chuck. Your actions have consequences."

"But I don't LIKE it." Chuck squirmed in his lap. "It's embarrassing."

"Mmhmm. And embarrassing is a hell of a lot better than dead, kid. You learn all about consequences at home, we don't have to worry so much in the field." Casey kept rubbing Chuck's back, soothing the frustration. "How about some soup?"

"Did you make it?" Chuck was a sucker for homemade chicken noodle.

"May brought you some of her no-chicken noodle. Mine is simmering."

"Homemade noodles?" Chuck sounded mildly interested.

Casey snorted at the question.

"Like May would bring you anything less?" he patted Chuck's butt and set the boy on his feet. "You need food and meds. And she spoils you."

Chuck sighed and looked longingly at the afghan and his pillow.

"You eat for me, take a bath, and we'll see about coming back down for a movie after." Casey dished out soup for Chuck and located the appropriate medications while it heated. "Take these."

Chuck took the medication without protest, washing it down easily with the water Casey handed him. Pleasantly surprised by the cooperation, Casey gave him a look that wasn't so hard to interpret. Chuck blushed.

"Ellie...earlier? It's not...I don't skip on purpose? I forget?"

"That's why I'm keeping track, kid. You just take what I give you, hmm?"

"I can do that. Do I get crackers?" Chuck sat in his place at the table, looking far too vulnerable for Casey's liking in his pajamas.

Casey rooted through his cabinets until he found the oyster crackers Chuck liked best. He set the box on the table, running a hand over Chuck's unruly hair on his way back to the microwave. Chuck immediately dumped crackers into his soup before spooning some up when Casey set it in front of him. Most of the way through the bowl, the kid started to flag, though, exhaustion peeking through again. He took one more spoonful before pushing the bowl away.

"M'really tired."

"Bath time, then." Casey cleared away his bowl and held out a hand for Chuck.

"Shower." Chuck insisted, taking his hand.

"Not a chance, kid. Until your balance is better, you're taking baths." Casey herded him upstairs, stopping only for clean pajamas.

"You're being unnecessarily dictatorial." Chuck pointed out.

Casey kind of wanted to ask him to say it again, since it sounded hilarious through the congestion, but he thought his boy would really not appreciate the sentiment.

"Take it up with the General. Strip." Casey started water running.

"I could get a union rep. Or tell Ellie. She'd save me from your controlling ways." Chuck shucked his pjs as ordered, feeling a little more energetic again.

"Unless I tell her half of what you get up to." Casey teased back. "Then she'd lock you in the basement to keep you safe from yourself."

"So, a union rep, then?" Chuck stuck his hand under the tap and discovered that Casey really did know how he liked his bath water.

"Like hell. In." Casey growled and swatted Chuck's butt. "I don't even think the Teamsters would take you. You're too much trouble."

As he wanted, Chuck quickly sat down in the bath to get his backside out of range. The steaming, scented water soon had his boy drifting happily, and the eucalyptus helped clear out some of the congestion.

"May could be my Union Rep." Chuck flicked a little water at Casey as he scrubbed himself clean.

Casey snorted.

"May agrees with me."

"Only because you're the Major. I'm pretty sure she'd flip if I gave her the wooby-eyes." Chuck looked at the hand-shower with some interest.

Casey preempted any movement.

"You, sit. You aren't giving May any kind of eyes, kid. What did you want?"

"I want to wash my hair and rinse off."

"You want me to wash it?"

Chuck smiled at the older man; he hadn't expected that level of spoiling from Casey, not after he'd been a creep.

"Please?"

"Lean back."

Chuck did as he'd been told, happily. Most people who met Casey would never guess that the man had the ability to be softer, that those lethal hands could also soothe so gently. Chuck loved feeling those big hands work shampoo and conditioner through his curls, loved the head massage he got. Casey took his time, too, soothing away the latent headache from stuffed sinuses and stress. He smiled at the happy moan from his boy as he lathered and rinsed.

"Take my arm and stand up slowly." Casey supported Chuck as he stood, and then rinsed him off quickly.

He helped Chuck out of the tub and wrapped him in a big towel while he let the water out of the tub. He dried his boy off, wanting him back in pajamas as soon as possible. Once Chuck was mostly dry, he bundled him back into pajamas and handed him his robe.

"Do I get a movie?" Chuck asked, tying the robe's belt. Casey was pretty particular about clothing, oddly enough, and pajamas meant a robe, too.

"Yeah, kid, come on." Casey made Chuck take his arm on the way down, not trusting the kid's balance. "You want cookies? I think May brought some."

"I thought she was anti-sugar for the sick?" Chuck reclaimed his afghan and his spot on the sofa.

"Are you threatening to rat me out, kid? I will withhold cookies." Casey managed a growl.

"No threats! Promise!" Chuck protested. "What kind of cookies?"

Casey took a look in the cookie jar May kept stocked, and then in the cabinet. He blinked, eyebrows raised.

"Kid, you need to talk to her about de-stressing."

He bought over a plate of assorted cookies. As soon as he sat, Chuck scooted over to curl against him and claim a couple.

"Indiana Jones or Star Wars?" Casey asked.

"Mmm, you pick." Chuck mumbled around cookie, content to cuddle against the warmest person he'd ever met. Casey put out heat like a generator.

Casey pressed a kiss to the messy curls tickling his chin and cued up The Last Crusade. Indiana Jones could kick Luke Skywalker's ass any day. He wrapped an arm around his boy and munched on a cookie, feeling better than he had since he'd walked out the door four days ago.


	5. nutmeg223 | Chuck vs. Acute Otitis Media Part 5 (Chuck/Casey)

  


Chuck woke slowly, the soft light filtering through the blinds confusing him a little. He usually got woken up by Casey going out for a run, sometime around the asscrack of dawn. But it was...he fumbled for his watch on the bedside table...nine AM and he was still draped over Casey. Or Casey'd come back to bed after his run and Chuck was still absolutely sacked out and didn't even hear it. He had a vague memory of being woken up some time in the night for more Advil and fresh pajamas, but the memory felt swimmy and disconnected. He felt Casey's hand rub up and down his back before the older man pressed a cheek to his forehead.

"You're still pretty warm, kid."

"Mmm," Chuck managed by way of a response. "You come back to bed after running?"

"Yeah, figured you could use a little more sleep." Casey's hand moved down to pat his butt. "We need to check that temp of yours, see where we are."

Chuck hid his face in Casey's shoulder and groaned. He'd hoped Casey would maybe forget about his promise yesterday, but it seemed like he hadn't.

"Come on, kid. Shift over." Casey patted a little more firmly. "Pants down, on your stomach."

Sometimes, Chuck really wished Casey hadn't figured out that the best way to sear something into his brain was through his backside...or a supercomputer, but Casey usually went with the less tech-heavy option. Chuck clung to him, saying a farewell to dignity, and hoped he wasn't about to get himself spanked.

"You were fine with it before I put you to bed last night." Casey sounded a little exasperated.

"I...you…" Chuck huffed at his own stuttering, starting a coughing jag. Once his lungs had calmed down a little, he tried again. "Over your lap? Like last night?"

Feeling better about the whole process was a blow to the few shreds of dignity he had, but it wasn't like Casey paid attention to his dignity, anyway. In six months, the man had seen all the good and nearly all the bad, and had simply dealt with it. Somehow, Casey had become the perfect immovable object he'd been trying to find. He knew Casey protected him from more than just physical danger...the man protected him from himself, too. He made Chuck feel like everything could be handled, no neurosis or freak out or occasion of bad behavior was too large or embarrassing to be dealt with calmly.

"Okay, kid, we can do that."

Just like that, Casey shifted them around so he was sitting and Chuck sprawled over his lap. It was a position Chuck usually loathed, because it meant he was about to find sitting a distant memory for the next few days, but Casey had been showing him the other interesting things you could do to someone over a lap recently, so he had some better memories too.

"Lift up."

Chuck lifted his hips a little so Casey could slide his pajama pants down. It still felt weird being bare like that, and he hoped that it would stay that way. Casey's hands were warm and sure, soothing him through the whole process. He couldn't help a little wiggle when Casey parted his cheeks and inserted the thermometer.

***

Casey rested one hand at the small of Chuck's back, the other held the thermometer and cupped his boy's bottom. Who the hell knew that all you had to do to get the kid to cooperate was put him over your lap? Twice, now, he'd been able to take his boy's temp without any kind of fight, just submission. The kid was a capital-b Brat, not one of the more obvious ones, and maybe a little more. He needed someone riding herd on his behavior, yes, but he also needed the praise and the petting. Chuck wanted so desperately to be someone's good boy. He wondered how his boy would respond to a little more play. He wasn't a brutal Top...he saved that for the job. Topping, he liked to spoil a little, do the petting and the praising...punishment when warranted...the softer crap that could get him killed at work.

He checked his watch and removed the thermometer, automatically wiping it down and putting it away before he tidied Chuck up, too. As expected, the kid shifted and squeaked a little at Casey doing something so intimate.

"What's the damage?" Chuck rasped and sniffed.

"102.7. We'll keep an eye on that today, kid."

"Woo-hoo." Chuck muttered, not quite sotto voce enough for someone bare ass up over a lap.

Casey swatted him three times, once at the base of each cheek, and once dead center. He cupped his hand, though, giving his boy more noise and sting than lasting ache.

"Sorry! Sorry, John!" Chuck squealed at the sting.

"You just keep that attitude in check, kid, or I might decide that you don't need pants to recuperate." Casey patted once more before he pulled Chuck's pants up and manhandled the kid into his lap.

"Buddy...that is not awesome. Pants are completely necessary!" Chuck curled around him, giving him the big eyes.

"Hmm, not on a sarcastic boy." But he held Chuck close and rubbed his back anyway. "Before the sarcasm, you did good, kid."

Chuck hummed happily at the praise and curled in tighter.

Later that afternoon, once he'd gotten his boy to eat lunch and take more medication, Casey settled him on the sofa again. His boy's breathing had settled somewhere around Darth Vader, and Casey wanted him quiet and resting near a humidifier.

"I have to go out for a little while, kid, but May will be here before I go." Casey explained for about the fiftieth time since lunch, handing Chuck the requested laptop.

"You're leaving?" Chuck couldn't quite help the wobble in his voice.

"Two hours, tops. I have to run an errand."

"It's not shooting Sarah, is it?"

No matter how much he wanted to say yes, still, it wasn't shooting her. He huffed out a laugh.

"No, kid, it's not shooting Walker. We need to talk, though." Casey brushed his hand through Chuck's curls. "May should be here in a couple of minutes. And kid?"

"Yeah?" Chuck sighed.

"She puts up with less than I do, so you be a good boy for her."

He got a slightly skeptical look at that, but he knew May was more switch than most thought. She'd worked with the public too long not to have picked up a few pointers and a wicked Look.

"I'm serious, kid. If I get a bad report, you're going to be a very unhappy boy."

Chuck sighed, but answered,

"Yes sir."

"Good. I'll be back before you know it." Casey went to open the door to May, since his boy was at least accepting his leaving.

He crossed back to kiss Chuck and give him a few more minutes before leaving him in May's capable hands. Leaving his boy didn't sit so well, but he really had to address the issue with Walker before it went any farther. He wasn't doing that in front of Chuck. Even if he and Walker weren't buddies, he wanted Chuck to have that support structure.

****

Chuck grumped at his computer as Casey left, but he wasn't going to be obvious. He promised Casey he would behave, so he would behave...mostly. He didn't think anyone could begrudge him a little sulking.

"So, what are we doing today?" May asked brightly.

Chuck favored her with a less than happy look.

"Okay, so you're being a grump today. That's fine. I'll make you some tea." May brushed a hand through his hair, resting her palm on the back of his neck briefly. She was, however, seemingly unaffected by his less than stellar attitude.

Chuck didn't like the hmm noise she made when she felt the back of his neck. He wasn't that feverish, especially since the Advil Casey'd made him take. He continued with his research, listening to May bustling around the kitchen. He went deep into what he was reading, not hearing when May came back and perched on the arm of the sofa behind him.

"Oooh, honey, you don't want that website." May reached around his shoulders and typed in an address. "Try this one."

Chuck felt a flush creep up his neck, although the new site wasn't nearly as terrifying as the one he'd found.

"How…" he had to clear his throat so it wouldn't crack. "How do you know these things?"

May snorted.

"Oh, honey. You should probably talk about this with the Major, if you're interested?"

"I...I don't know? We do a lot of this, anyway, I think? Without really thinking about it?" He kept staring straight at the computer screen, where a very pretty young man wore a lot of artistically placed leather straps. It was a lot better than the stuff he'd been looking at. "I don't want to be hurt?"

"And that's a good starting point. You...until you talk to the Major, I'm not discussing this with you, and you're not doing that headache any favors staring at that screen. Turn it off, please."

Chuck found himself turning the laptop off and handing it over, unsure of how May knew he had a headache, anyway. May bustled at him until he laid down flat so she could rest a warmed sinus pillow across his forehead. The heat started to soothe the headache almost immediately. He hummed happily at the relief, and started slipping back into sleep. He tried to fight against it, but sleep claimed him yet again as May tucked the afghan around him and pressed a kiss to his cheek.


	6. nutmeg223 | Chuck vs. Acute Otitis Media Part 6 (Chuck/Casey)

  


John's head felt like it was buzzing slightly as he parked a hip on the sofa so he could wake Chuck. The kid had been out for the better part of two hours, according to May, and he wanted Chuck to actually sleep that night. He'd had to have one of those conversations with May...the kind where they both looked at a spot on the wall over the other's shoulder (easier for him than May) and pretended that they both weren't ragingly uncomfortable. It had involved a lot of hand gestures, suggestions that perhaps he should look at what Chuck was getting up to online, and throat clearing. Christ. On top of the discussion he'd had with Walker, it was shaping up to be one of Those Days. And now he was going to have to pry information out of his boy. At least he'd get the benefit of sweet and sleepy Chuck first. He brushed his fingers gently over Chuck's cheek.

"Hey, kid, you need to wake up for me."

Chuck blinked a few times before turning onto his side and curling against him. "Mmm."

"Yeah, I know, kid. You need to wake up or you're not sleeping tonight." Casey went with a little shoulder shake.

Chuck groaned pitifully.

"Y'said sleep! Ge' better!" he slurred. So much for sweet.

"And now I'm saying wake up for a little while, or you're going to be buzzing around at 4 AM."

"Don't buzz." Chuck managed to get his eyes open enough to argue.

"Yeah, you do. Like when you try to slip a RedBull past me." John ghosted fingers over Chuck's ribs, just the suggestion of a tickle.

"Mean." Chuck groaned again, but sat up.

"Heard you and May had a talk today." If by heard you meant 'watched May make incomprehensible hand signs, blush, and stammer for ten minutes.'

That got the kid bolt upright, alert, and blushing. Which was entertaining, since May had, wisely, shut down the conversation before it really got started.

"Anything you want to share, kid?" John brushed a hand through Chuck's hair and squeezed the back of his neck gently.

"I was online." Chuck rasped. "May looked over my shoulder."

"So I need to talk about computer etiquette with her?" Casey teased.

Chuck, if possible, went pinker.

"No...she sent me to a better website? One that was less whips and chains and more umm...just less scary?"

"Kid, what exactly are we talking about?" Casey wasn't giving him an easy out...although being freaked out by certain websites explained some of the kid's jumpiness before he left.

Chuck curled up again with a pillow over his face, slowly going red to the tips of his ears.

"bdsm." It was muffled, but intelligible.

"You've been looking for information on kinky sex on a computer that you damn well know is tracked by the government?" Casey pinched the bridge of his nose. No wonder General Beckman had been making pithy little comments for DAYS.

Chuck made a strangled and humiliated noise behind the pillow. Casey sighed, decided that it probably couldn't get worse, and yanked the pillow out of his boy's hands. He quickly hauled Chuck into his lap, even though he wasn't sure the brat deserved it. He probably should have put the kid over his lap instead, sans pants. Chuck curled around him and clung, hiding his face in his shoulder.

"I wanted more on the Dom/sub thing...not the really heavy SM stuff." Chuck admitted, voice strained.

"Christ." Casey muttered. "And you couldn't ask me?"

"This…" Chuck made a hand gesture alarmingly similar to the one May'd been using. Maybe Sarah was right and he needed to let Chuck hang out with her more. "It felt...more? More than just rules and spanking? But I didn't know, because it's not always...one and the other don't follow always?"

That was about as clear as frigging Fallujah in a sandstorm. And if the kid could make a statement that wasn't a question some time in the next five minutes, that would be helpful.

"Okay, back up and clarify. What doesn't always follow?" He knew...he damn well knew what the kid was blathering on about, but he needed to hear what Chuck thought of the whole thing.

"Relationship politics." Chuck muttered.

"Christ." Casey felt that was warranted. "Kid, you need to stop talking to May, and stop borrowing books from her."

"But she wouldn't even talk!" Chuck protested. "She started and then she just shut me down!"

"Fine." He'd already known that, anyway. "Explain in a way that won't make my brain leak out my ears."

"Fine." Chuck sounded a little sulky. "A Top, who does the rules and consequences thing, may not always want to do the Dom thing."

"The Dom thing?"

"It's different! I think...I didn't get that far before May took the computer and made me take a nap."

His boy sounded distressed, so Casey took some pity on him.

"Okay, okay," he rubbed Chuck's back, soothing him. "Why don't you tell me what got you started looking things up. Tell me what sounds nice to you, that we don't do."

A small part of him wanted to record this and show Walker, just to say 'See? I can be reasonable. So shut up.' but that was unprofessional, unfair to Chuck, and childish. She grated on him in ways he'd thought only his younger siblings could.

Chuck made another embarrassed noise against his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, none of that, kid. There's nothing you need to be embarrassed about here."

"You won't laugh?" Chuck's voice was small.

"No laughing, I promise." Casey rubbed a hand up and down Chuck's back since the kid loved that...it was like he was half cat sometimes.

"I like...thinking about...it's…"

"Just blurt it out," he prompted.

"Sitting or kneeling next to your chair while you read or we watch TV or something." Chuck spoke into his shoulder.

And hell if that wasn't straight out of his own fantasies.

"Okay," he answered evenly. "We can try that and see how you like it. Anything else? Whips, chains, St. Andrew's Cross, floggers? Fair warning: I won't do anything with electricity." There were too many bad memories attached to a hell of a lot of the usual trappings of a scene.

Chuck pulled back to shake his head vehemently.

"No! No, I don't want to be hurt. I just want to be yours."

This boy, his boy was like a punch to the gut sometimes. Even congested so badly he looked half-high, breathing like Darth Vader, and with a little drool dried to his face from his nap, he still managed to disarm him.

"Oh, kid, what the hell am I going to do with you?" He asked gently, pulling Chuck closer so he could run his hand through those messy curls.

"Make me yours?"

It could have been suggestive or coy, but from Chuck it was open and honest.

"Yeah...yeah, kid, we can do that."

They sat quietly for a few minutes before Chuck had to shift a little.

"You...you don't want any of the stuff you talked about, right? Because I could...but you know how I am with things that hurt, and…"

Casey cut him off with a hand over the mouth. It was a little rude, but sometimes it was the only way to interrupt an impending freak-out.

"Kid, I want you. I don't want you hurting beyond what lingers from a spanking. Sometimes, after you break the rules, I might want to see you shift around in your seat with a tender ass, but that's it. The rules and the consequences stand, we just add what you might like. You understand?"

Chuck nodded, eyes wide and solemn. Casey moved his hand, sure that Chuck wasn't going to start again. Chuck, true to form, just curled tighter around him and rested his head on Casey's shoulder.

"And kid?"

Chuck made an interrogative noise.

"Later today you are going to wipe that computer. You need to look up something sensitive, you ask, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do I need to make you write 'I will not troll the internet for information on kink on a government-tracked computer'?"

"No, sir! I won't do it again!"

"Good." Casey stifled the urge to grin. It wouldn't have been fair to his boy. "If you ever do it again, then you get to explain it to the General. And she'll be getting a copy of your lines."

Chuck made a muffled squeaking noise against his neck.

"You understand, then. Good. We have a little while to sit before I'm kicking you upstairs for a bath."

Chuck hummed happily, warm against his neck, and Casey held him closer. They had plenty of time. Maybe some time holding his boy would help with the headache named Walker.  



	7. nutmeg223 | Chuck vs. Acute Otitis Media Part 7 (Chuck/Casey)

And we have the Casey and Sarah interlude. No, he's not going to shoot her. :)

The private room off an out-of-the-way bar felt like the perfect location. It was public enough to deter any shooting, and private enough (and soundproof enough) to allow any yelling if that happened. He'd been able to sweep it for bugs, and he would damn well check Walker before they started, too. He was a paranoid bastard, but it hadn't let him down yet. Finally, the door cracked open and Walker poked her head around.

"Nice place for a meet." She raised an eyebrow as she came fully into the room.

"Hold it." Casey ordered, checking her for any bugs.

He mostly trusted her, and Beckman trusted her as well, but he really didn't trust Graham. Sarah seemed quietly amused as he cleared her.

"Why so far out?" Sarah asked as soon as he gave her the sign.

"Needed somewhere private. This doesn't go outside this room, Beckman's orders."

"What the hell is going on, Casey?" Sarah pulled out a chair and sat, pouring herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table.

"Mostly you ignoring instructions for dealing with the asset during my absence, Walker."

"He's an adult, Casey. I'm not telling a grown man that he has half an hour before bed," she huffed.

"You are if I say you are. My asset, my rules. He needs watching and reminding." Casey sat as well, making himself as comfortable as possible.

"It's ridiculous! Do you know how that sounds?"

"I know what Chuck needs."

"He needs what, every part of his life controlled? He's grown up, Casey. He doesn't need to be told what to do."

That statement held the key to the failed asset/handler relationship. Chuck sure as hell needed to be told what he was and was not allowed to do. Thinking quickly, Casey changed tack. He wasn't going to get anywhere arguing with her.

"Tell me, Walker, can he say no to Grimes?" Casey poured himself some water as well, although he'd have preferred a beer.

"I...I guess? What does that have to do with anything?" Sarah had that pissy, pinched expression.

"He can't. He's never been able to. I asked you to remind him about eating properly and getting to bed on time because I thought he was coming down with something. God knows he has no idea how to take care of himself. Now he's down with a double ear infection and some nasty mutant cold, which means we are too." Casey let himself lecture a little, reaching for the tone that had worked on pissy younger brothers.

"He has a cold, Casey, not the plague. I already told Beckman he should be okay to…"

"He's on sick leave, Walker; he's not okay to go anywhere. Do you remember the Blakeney Extraction Cock-up, five years ago?"

"Yes." The pissy expression didn't waver.

"So we don't dick around with ear infections. He's down; we are too. Next time damn well do as you're told."

Sarah opened her mouth to argue, eyes narrowed and obviously steamed.

"If you kept me in the loop, at all, maybe this wouldn't happen, Casey. You're pushing me out."

"I'm not pushing you anywhere, Walker. You're part of the team." Christ, women were difficult, sometimes. At least Walker didn't want to talk about her feelings.

"Yeah, the team that includes 'your people'? What the hell is Blakeney doing here, anyway? She's a librarian!"

And that was probably the rub. A librarian they used as an asset because she could sub prettily for the bad people who liked to play those games, keep them occupied while the agents did their thing, babysitting Their Asset? Getting friendly with him? That was definitely what was putting the pissy pinch into Walker's face. Or at least part of it.

"And Chuck likes the library, unless you want to get another part-time job? I didn't think so. Christ, Walker, I needed people I could trust. After Zarnow, I needed to make damn sure who we were letting near the kid. Blakeney's solid, and loyal."

"You couldn't have told me this four months ago? Four months, Casey! You don't just bring in 'your people' and not tell me anything. We're supposed to be in this together!" She left her chair to pace. "You think I don't worry about him? About you? I've had about enough of partners keeping things from me!"

He'd thought about that, even as he was keeping her partially in the dark. See paranoid bastard.

"That's why you're here, Walker. Cards on the table. Beckman wants you in, too, as long as you're not reporting right back to Graham. No one knows what the CIA is up to with this."

Sarah gave him a look that should have peeled paint off the walls.

"It's important, Walker. Beckman rescinded the kill order. Permanently. It's no longer an option."

"What?"

Oh yeah, that caught her flat-footed.

"She wants him alive and loyal, on a permanent basis. You could be part of that team, if you want it."

"Does she know you're compromised with him?"

"Who the hell do you think approved it? Look, Walker, you want in or not? I'm on a schedule here."

Sarah took a deep breath, sat, and pressed her lips together for a minute .

"I'm in. This doesn't go back to Graham."

"Good. There are rules."

She rolled her eyes. "Like that's a surprise?"

"Hey, I didn't leave the asset a puddle of moping and insecurity. You want in, you do this my way."

She muttered something that could have been 'control freak', but he chose to ignore it.

"There's some stuff that you're not going to know, because it doesn't involve you and Chuck doesn't want anyone knowing. Mostly, I need you to be a friend for him. He needs a better influence than the bearded moron."

"And Blakeney." Sarah interjected, a little acidly.

"You leave May out of it. And the rules...they're there to keep him stable. I'll read you in on what you need to know. Walker, if a kill order ever goes out, I need to know that you'll help get him out. My job is to keep him safe, even from the government. You going to be okay with that?"

"Like I'd let that happen to him?" Sarah raised her eyebrow again. "I'm okay with it."

Casey shifted a little. Damn but the chairs were designed by hell as torture for all the bad things anyone had done.

"You okay picking stuff up as you go along? I don't want to be out much longer."

"Yeah." Her face softened fractionally. "Don't hurt him, okay? I screwed up with him; don't do that, too. He...he's different with you. Better."

"Christ." Casey muttered. "Yeah, I'll uh...guess you'll kick my ass if I screw up?" They were coming perilously close to talking about their feelings.

"Count on it."

"Wanna beer before we go? I have time."

He got a narrow-eyed look in return as Walker considered his offer.

"Sure. Why not? Partners?"

"Respect the rules and sure, we're in this together."

If she muttered 'control freak' again on their way out the door, he ignored it. He felt a sense of accomplishment, like the op was going to work out right. He had Walker on board, the Blakeneys were on board, and the kid was...getting better at listening. Most of the time, anyway. Hell, he'd take what success he could and call it a win.  



	8. nutmeg223 | Chuck vs. Acute Otitis Media Part 8a (Chuck/Casey)

This is a little short and cliff-hangery, but I wanted to get something posted. :)

The corner was boring. Seriously, seriously boring. Chuck shifted and winced, the movement reminding him that Casey had taken his pants down before putting him in the corner to "help you concentrate on why you're here". Like he could forget he was in the corner because his S.O. was a control freak? He hated standing in the corner with his pants and boxers at half-mast. And to make matters even worse, he knew his butt was probably a little pink from Casey's response to his reluctance to be put in the corner.

He knew what he'd done wrong...he didn't need corner time to figure it out, but Casey liked corner time. Used it a heck of a lot, too, because it calmed him down. Something about being put in the corner, generally either wearing just a shirt or with pants at his knees, helped him calm down really fast. Casey did it after work, sometimes, even if he wasn't in trouble. Once they got home, Casey would take one look at him and kick him upstairs for a shower before parking him at the wall in the kitchen. There weren't any open corners in the kitchen, so Chuck got to spend time staring at the wall until he relaxed, listening to John make dinner.

He just wished they'd get to it, though. He'd been waiting a week, already, and he knew that the waiting just helped him get in more trouble than usual when sick. A day hadn't gone by where Casey hadn't had to swat or reprimand at least once, and generally a few times. He'd been snippier and more difficult than usual, just wanting to get it over with. Finally, he heard Casey enter the room, puttering around behind him. He heard the older man put away some clothing, and his stomach clenched. What if Casey used the hairbrush? He hated the hairbrush, but he'd probably behaved badly enough for it. One hairbrush paddling really was enough; he never needed to experience that again. Ever. And he would also never take his watch off again, even if Bryce said it was okay. Especially if it was Bryce saying it was okay. He heard John sit on the bed and stiffened a little.

"C'mere, kid."

He took a deep breath and turned shuffling over to the bed. Luckily, the bedroom wasn't huge, so he could make it to the bed without almost falling over. He didn't take his pants off, because that wasn't his job. When he was in trouble, Casey dealt with pants and underwear, decided whether they were on or off. He reached the bed, stood at John's side, and waited quietly. He wasn't going to go through the usual song and dance of 'You don't have to! I'm really sorry!' since he knew he deserved what he was about to get.

Casey felt a little swell of pride as his boy waited without begging or bargaining. He reached out, snagged Chuck's wrist, and tugged the boy between his knees. That made it easier to whisk pants and boxers down to his ankles.

"Step out."

His boy complied immediately, letting Casey fold the flannels and boxers and set them behind him. He had a feeling his boy wasn't going to want anything touching his ass once they were done. He snagged Chuck's hand again and rubbed his thumb over the knuckles, soothing a little.

"Okay, kid, your sister cleared you, so we're dealing with your behavior while I was out of town last week."

"Yes, sir." Chuck answered him quietly, looking ashamed.

"You promised me that you would behave for me, didn't you? That you would go to bed on time, eat properly, and not spend 48 hours playing Call of Duty, hmm?"

"Yes, sir. I promised."

"And then you went and did the opposite. Tell my why."

"I don't know why, honestly. I've been thinking and thinking about it, and I just don't know! It wasn't...you didn't ask me to do anything hard! But then Morgan...and I couldn't say no...and I knew it was wrong, but it was Morgan! And you said I'd get reminders, but there weren't any...and I...I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry." Chuck's eyes filled a little at that and he bit his lip.

"Okay, kid. That's good. You did good for me there. This was a big one, Chuck. I didn't ask you to do anything hard, just mind our rules for four days without me here. It's still early days for us, so I expected some rule-breaking, but not sending the whole damn list out the window. You're grounded until I say otherwise. You go to work, you come home, you do government work, and you don't leave my damn sight. No video games, no internet, and early bedtimes go along with that. You put your phone up as soon as you get home, and you don't touch it unless we're leaving the apartment. You can be damn sure that I'll be riding your ass on the rules, too, kid."

"Yes sir." His boy looked a little appalled at the amount of trouble he'd gotten himself in.

"And you earned yourself a spanking, too, kid. Disobedience, disrespect, and dishonesty get you here every single time." With that, he turned his unresisting boy over one thigh. "You disobeyed and disrespected our rules, and when I called, what did you tell me?"

"I said I was fine," Chuck murmured.

Casey patted his pink cheeks.

"That's right, kid. You told me you were fine. You're damn lucky I'm not washing your mouth out for the lie."

"M'sorry."

He heard the wobble in Chuck's voice and rubbed his back a little.

"Thank you. We're going to deal with the misbehavior, give you a reminder of why you mind me, and plenty of time to practise that."

That said, Casey landed the first hard smack. He wasn't dealing with this kind of crap from his boy again.


	9. nutmeg223 | Chuck vs. Acute Otitis Media Part 8b (Chuck/Casey)

  


He set a steady pace that he could keep up for a while; his boy wasn't going to be sitting comfortably for a good long while when they were done. As always, Chuck fought the discipline at first, fought the reality that Casey really was the final arbiter of his behavior. As his boy's backside heated up, he squirmed against the restraining arm across his back, shifted his hips as far away from the falling hand as he could. He couldn't shift that far, Casey made sure of that. Every spank fell exactly where he wanted it to, blending smack after smack into a solid pink flush across his boy's pale cheeks, while he watched his boy's body language. Chuck held his back rigid, arms gripping tightly around one of the sofa pillows. His toes were pressed into the floor, at least for the moment. Soon enough, the sting would have him tensing, then kicking against the hardwood.

He knew he needed to get Chuck down to submitting to his will, accepting the discipline and his right to instill it. It always took a while for Chuck to soften a little, for those tense shoulders and that rigid back to relax fractionally as he realized that he wasn't going to get away, wasn't going to stop the spanking before Casey decided it was done. His boy wasn't trying to get out of being punished when he'd done wrong, generally, he just had a hard time accepting the reality of the situation. Casey didn't cup his hand as he had for most of the week; Chuck was well enough to handle full swats. As his boy's backside shaded from pink to red, he noticed the first little flick of toes against floor, and the accompanying slight relaxation in Chuck's back and shoulders. He'd buried his face in the pillow, and Casey could hear muffled squeaking and squealing as he spanked.

"So we're clear, kid, you don't break a promise you made to me. That's absolutely unacceptable behavior, and it'll land you here every time." He spanked harder for a few smacks, punctuating the lecture.

"M'sorry!" Chuck wailed, although he was a little muffled in the pillow.

"Yeah, you're sorry now when I'm spanking your butt. You're going to learn to think about sorry before you misbehave. Understood?"

"Yessir! Ow! Ow!" Chuck's toes drummed a tattoo on the floorboards.

"From now until I say otherwise, you're on serious restriction, kid. You don't go out of my sight without asking. You don't do anything without asking, and you can bet that I'm going to be supervising you a lot more closely. Next time I have to go out of town and can't bring you, May's going to stay with you to supervise. This was a big one, kid, and I want you to think about that every time you sit for the next few days."

"Ow! Caaaaseeey! Please! Ow! I'll be good!" The familiar, and increasingly penitent, litany fell unbidden from Chuck's lips. Casey could see him try to bite down to keep any more embarrassing words from escaping, but a couple of solid swats where he sat took care of that.

"You bet you'll be good, kid. I can always add in a spanking in the morning and another before I put you to bed if you want to misbehave."

Casey spanked his boy's sit spots steadily, quickly bringing that tender skin from pink to the same dark red as the rest of his bottom. That wrung the first choking sob out of his boy. Chuck kicked against the sting, curling his hands tighter around the pillow to keep from reaching back; he hated having his hands pinned at the small of his back. The tension had melted out of him, leaving him pliant and wailing over Casey's lap. Judging the moment, Casey reached down next to his leg and grasped the handle of the hairbrush. He wasn't going to deliver a full-on paddling on top of the sound spanking he'd already handed out, but he really wanted to drive his point home. He knew his boy viewed the hairbrush with mingled loathing and dread.

He rested the hated implement on Chuck's bottom for a second before landing the first smack.

"Ooooow! John! John, please! I'll be good! Please! No more! Ow! Please!"

Casey steeled his heart against the panicked babbling.

"Nine more, kid. I'm serious about this." He forced himself to hand out an abbreviated paddling, all where his boy sat.

After the first round of pleading, Chuck had gone limp over his lap, sobbing hard. He set the brush down again and rubbed his hand up under his boy's tee shirt. He didn't shush, or say much of anything, just tethered Chuck to his care with a warm hand rubbing up and down his spine. Chuck needed more time than usual to calm down, crying for far longer than he generally did. Casey manhandled him up to straddle his lap, wanting his boy as close as possible. Chuck clung to him like a limpet, hiding his face in Casey's shoulder as he sobbed out his sorries. Casey rubbed his back, patted the unspanked parts of his thighs, and let him calm down in his own time. Eventually, the stormy sobs gave way to shuddering and hitching breaths.

Chuck turned his head to rest his cheek against Casey's shoulder and kissed his neck.

"M'sorry," he murmured, voice still thick with tears.

"I know, kid. I know." Casey soothed.

"Didn't mean to be bad." His boy's breath hitched on the last word.

"You need to go over my knee again?" Casey asked sternly.

Chuck pulled back to stare at him, completely shocked.

"No!" he protested.

"We've been over how I feel about 'bad'. You weren't bad, kid. You made some ill-advised choices, and I spanked you for it. You're on restriction for it 'til I say otherwise. You weren't and aren't bad. I hear that from you again, and you're going right back over my knee for the hairbrush." Casey let himself lecture. He didn't do it often, but his boy really needed that to sink in.

"Got it! Crystal clear!" Chuck squeaked.

"Good." Casey resumed rubbing his back, encouraging him to cling.

"I wanted to have a really nice welcome home. Instead you got barf and disobedience." His boy sounded miserable at that.

"I still got my boy and a lot of time with you this week, kid. Don't worry about it." Casey soothed.

"But I bought lube and condoms!" Chuck protested; Casey could feel him blushing against his neck. "Purposefully! I was going to wrap them and give them to you when you got back."

"Condoms?" Casey asked teasingly.

"I know! I know we got tested...it was the meaning behind them. That I'm ready." Chuck worried some of Casey's shirt between his fingers.

"Oh, kid. You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" He very gently cupped Chuck's radiating backside. "We can have that welcome home, kid, when you're ready again. There's no reason to rush."

Chuck sighed and rested his cheek against Casey's shoulder again.

"You mean it?"

"I mean it, kid. You let me know when you're ready. And kid?"

"Hmm?" Chuck sounded a little dreamy.

"You did good, kid, going out with Walker. She told me you did exactly what she said without arguing. And you did good not going over to Grimes' place. You stayed where we could keep an eye on you."

"Thank you." Chuck smiled against his neck and yawned.

"And that's our cue to get you into bed for a while." Casey patted the back of Chuck's thigh.

"Casey! All I've been doing is sleeping!" Another yawn interrupted the complaint.

"And you're going to be tired for a while yet. You're still healing, kid, whether you know it or not. And a boy on restriction might want to rethink arguing unless he wants to be put to bed for the night now." Casey patted again.

Chuck spluttered at that.

"It's three o'clock!" he protested.

"And you can either take a nap or be put to bed for the night. What's it going to be?"

"Nap," Chuck muttered with bad grace.

"Good choice, kid. You need to can the attitude." Casey shifted Chuck onto his feet and whisked his tee off.

Chuck shifted a little and shivered, but Casey quickly had him bundled into his pajama shirt.

"You want the pants?" he asked.

"No, please." Chuck turned pleading eyes on him.

"Okay. In." Casey held the covers up until Chuck slid in on his stomach. He pulled the covers up over his boy's shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

Chuck watched as Casey rounded the bed to his side and sat, settling in with the book from his nightstand.

"You're staying?" Chuck asked, confused.

"You don't go out of my sight. Now close your eyes and get some rest." The gruff order worked.

Casey cracked open Team of Rivals and lost himself in history. His boy squirmed over until he could press close and rest his head against Casey's thigh. He shifted the book to one hand and brushed the other through Chuck's curls. His boy gave a happy sigh and went almost boneless as he dropped into sleep. After the week they'd had, he could use an afternoon reading with his soundly sleeping boy close by.


End file.
